Canto IV: The Denouement
Do you not, I say, perceive that we are come to the end of our history…? Who wants a long scene at the last? Mammas are putting the girls' cloaks and boas on; papas have gone out to look for the carriage, and left the box-door swinging open, and letting in the cold air:… To- morrow their play-bills will be as so much waste-paper--so will some of our masterpieces, woe is me: but lo! Here we come to Scene the last.
-Rebecca and Rowena
O great Atlantis! Beauteous home
Of clueless Ancients fair,
To thee again the tale devolves,
And is determined there.
Although I know a dart is small—
Uncomfortable for three,
In some strange way (I know not how)
My leads returned to thee.
Brave Ronon was Miss Keller's charge,
And angst there was galore
And so between the two of them
You couldn't ask for more.
With shock the team regarded Chuck,
The hero of the Hive,
For none of them expected him
To still remain alive.
And Rodney? He seemed very down-
He must have been concerned,
For no one in the group of them
His motives had discerned.
A week had passed, and happily
The doctor's patient proved
A constitution that is strong
Has hope to be improved.
Though very weak- an invalid,
The danger had been passed—
Or so he thought, and such a thought
Perhaps would be his last.
One soft and lovely autumn night
McKay the chamber sought
Where Ronon was at rest t'enact
The climax of his plot.
He took a dagger from his belt
And held it o'er the heart
And whispered "'Tis about the time
To finish what I start!"
With that he mercilessly plunged
The knife into his pal--
Poor Ronon wakened with a start
And gave a pain-filled howl.
"You fiend!" cried Keller, rushing in-
"I thought you were a bore,
But this is more than even you
Could ever do before!"
"You know him well!" The villain said
"But 'Tis not he you 'dress, (1)
But I, a vengeful spirit who
His body did possess."
"He is an heir of one whom long-
Two-hundred years at least
I have despised with all my heart
And wished to have deceased."
"So take his life to save your Love
Or else I fear he's done,
For one more blow is all I need
To make his race be run."
"Two Hundred years?!" The doctor cried
"Well that's a waste, I find
How many things you could have done
With all that extra time."
"Your rival's dead- long dead, it sounds
But still you are his foe
And torment the relations
That he didn't even know!"
"You have a point," The Lord agreed
"What's past is past, I'll learn-
For there are nations still to run
And currency to earn."
"But Sir, I mean-" but 'twas too late,
As he was gone before
She spoke, in search of better prey
Whose influence was more.
What can I write to end the piece?
What more is there to say?
I doubt that anything will do
That will not be cliché.
And so to your imagining
I leave the closing show,
With Keller kindly looking to
Her hurt, but living beau.
(1) Address